Giving Up and Moving On
by Kilonji
Summary: Do you think you're the only person who had to let go of something they wanted with their whole heart? Get over yourself!
1. Therapy is Uncomfortable

The veranda overlooking the little pond on the Kuchiki estate has had furniture added to it in the last few years. Two western-style chairs now overlook the still water. The lord of the manor put them there as a lure for his intrepid sister. But tonight they are being used for other things. Next to him, his fukutaichou is sitting with his wild red head in his hands.

Byakuya frowns at him. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Renji. I cannot counsel you without knowing all the facts."

The boy—yes, _boy,_ his face reminds Byakuya of a five-year old who's just lost his dog—looks at him with bloodshot eyes. "Things are completely out of control here, taichou."

"I am aware of that. You still have yet to explain _why_."

"Your sister made a choice," Renji says, and Byakuya cringes at the pain in his voice. "I can accept that. I _have_ accepted that. I just don't know why I'm reacting this way."

"She chose the boy."

"Was there ever any doubt she would?"

"No, but I am certain you held out a certain hope until now." Byakuya shifts in his chair. "But there's something else, isn't there."

"I've been going down to Karakura with her, you know. She likes the company. I like the company. For a while I felt like a third wheel, but lately there's been someone else with them."

Byakuya coughs. "I know you've been going because I never rescinded the original order, Renji."

"Ah." Renji clears his throat.

"Who else has been spending time with you?"

"A high school friend of Kurosaki's," Renji sighs.

"A high school friend who unsettles you, clearly. What is he like?"

Renji blinks at him. "Not 'he,' sir."

"She? Have you developed feelings for Inoue Orihime? You told me she has formed an attachment to that Quincy."

"Not her, sir. Her friend. Ichigo's friend."

Byakuya gazes at the boy. He cannot recall any other females among the ranks of Kurosaki's seemingly endless list of comrades. Renji shakes his head; he knows his captain isn't understanding.

"Her name is Arisawa." He clears his throat again. "She's a complete bitch, almost as bad as Rukia can be. And I think"—he pauses, clearly unsure of how to say what he wants to say next—"I'm completely hot for her."

Byakuya sighs and takes a sip of his tea. "Start from the beginning, Renji," he says.

He knows it's going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N:** Hee hee, this is gonna be fun. 


	2. Purgatory is a Dojo

"You suck." The frown on her face attests to her complete and utter faith in her words. "You suck in ways that completely defy definition, description, or deconstruction."

And she keeps going on like this, and he wonders how many words she knows that start with the letter _d_. He wishes she was someplace else right now. Someplace away from him.

Hell, five feet would do.

The he wouldn't be staring into smoldering—oh shit, _smoldering_—eyes and wondering why they're so impossibly beautiful. It used to be that violet was his favorite color, the color of fresh and fleeting dusk. But now it's not and he's all twisted. He looks at this one and thinks of panthers, lions. . . lionesses. Firm and feral with rending teeth and claws. Ready to strike and kill at a moment's notice, rip into flesh and tear it asunder.

Kinda like what's she's doing to him now. Only not so pleasant.

"Are you even paying attention, you (insert expletive for cat here)?"

She did _not _just say that.

Okay, so she did. He feels the eyes rolling back into his head. It's just like being back in the eleventh division.

With tampons.

She whacks him on the forehead with the heel of her hand. "Are you mad now?"

"Yes," he says loudly.

She hits him again. "No, are you _pissed_ now?"

"_Dammit!_" Just as she reaches to strike him again, he grabs her arm and flips her over. She lands with a thud on her back. He can only gaze down at her in numb horror. She's too still. If she doesn't get up, he'll never get a chance to—oh nevermind. She arches her back, stretching like some mutant contortionist, moaning. _Good god she just moaned._ _Please don't let her look at my crotch, pleasedon'tletherlookatmycrotch . . ._

"That was damn good, Abarai. I never thought you had the nerve." She's on her feet and in his face. "I think we're ready to spar now."

He coughs. She gets into position.

"I hate you, Arisawa," he says.

"Good," she smiles before she attacks.

The golden pair are waiting outside when it's all over. Ichigo is stone-faced and shrewd. He can see the flush on Renji's face and deduce it's more than just being out of breath and sore. But he says nothing. That would only clue in Rukia, who as far as both he and Renji are concerned, is better off not knowing.

"I see you wiped the floor with his ass again," she congratulates Tatsuki, and Tatsuki grins and begins to boast, as usual. Of course Tatsuki knows he's letting her win. It amuses her he'd go through the trouble. She doesn't know the half of it.

Renji falls behind, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I don't understand why that old geezer makes these gigai so realistic," he whines, rubbing his neck.

"Then stop letting her beat you," Ichigo deadpans.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Ichigo slows his step until the girls are several feet ahead of them. "Look. You're a mess. If you're thinking about something, you'd better make up your mind. Urahara'll charge you a fortune if you wreck that gigai and Arisawa only gets rougher if she senses you like it. You do like it, don't you?"

"I dunno."

Ichigo gives a snort. "Well don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

"_So that's where the bruises are coming from," Byakuya says. I thought maybe you were being reckless on the field. You're saying a human girl did this?"_

_Renji nods._

"_Did you like it?"_

_Renji nods again._

_His captain gives a little sigh. "I see the problem is much deeper than you first implied. Keep going. Oh, and Abarai?"_

"_Taichou?"_

"_I believe I told you to start from the beginning. Please pay better attention."_

* * *

**Next up**: Meat and potatoes. Byakuya gets a big wet bite. 


	3. Debriefing for the Mentally Impaired

"_I have your reports here. You make no mention of anyone by the name Arisawa."_

"_I call her 'dragon bitch' in the reports, sir."_

_Cold gray eyes scan him briefly and flicker back to the parchment. "Ah. Even from the beginning, Abarai? I don't think I need to remind you that such language in an official report is highly inappropriate. And I can hardly say I condone such disparaging remarks about a lady."_

"_That's no lady."_

"_And yet?"_

_The redhead groans. "She makes me feel—tingly."_

The three of them—Rukia, Ichigo and Renji bringing up the rear—had settled into a routine. Three, sometimes four nights a week, the two vice-captains would patrol Karakura for an hour. Once the all-clear was declared, Rukia would make her way to the apartment inhabited by her beau and his enormous Mexican compadre. At first, Renji would always join her. Chad was a good guy and a hell of a cook; who could turn down a meal? Even if more often than not it was spicy.

Renji would afterwards sit with a vacant look in front of the television while Chad cleaned up. Rukia would long since have retreated to Ichigo's room. At this point Renji would turn the volume down and listen. Hard. It wasn't long before he found his head tilting towards the hallway, listening for something—_anything_—that would indicate activity in Ichigo's room. At least, until Chad would turn the volume back up and look at him with a gaze that was both disapproving and concerned. After several weeks of it, the giant finally spoke. "Why don't we get some air."

Unable to think of an excuse to stay, Renji followed Chad out of the apartment and into the street. Which, as it happened, was alive with activity. Kids running around, cars whizzing by, all that stuff. Inhaling the car fumes and the sweet smell of bread from the bakery as they passed, Renji wondered what it would be like to live here. Like a living person or something. Get a job, make money, have access to a wider variety of women—he had to stop himself there. As if a million opportunities with a million girls could possibly measure up to the opportunity he never really had with the one he really wanted.

Chad seemed to perceive his train of thought. "I thought about going back to Mexico after I graduated. It's a lot warmer there and miss it sometimes. I thought maybe life would be a little simpler there."

"Why didn't you go?"

"All the things I am now are here. Everything I've done and all the people I care about. Even the ones who make me unhappy. I don't like the idea walking away from people just because they disappoint me sometimes. Abuelo told me once the way we deal with the people we care about is how we learn to deal with ourselves."

"That's the most I've ever heard you say."

"_Indeed," Byakuya says suddenly. "I was under the impression he was mute."_

"Hm." Chad's hands were in his pockets and he gazed forward as if he were glimpsing a future only he could see.

Renji scratched his nose. "I didn't come down here to do anything stupid, you know. They waited a good long time before they decided. I can't say they were being thoughtless or anything."

_Byakuya coughs. "That remains to be seen," he sniffs._

"Hm."

"I'm really happy for her. She seems happy. They both seem pretty happy—how do you _do_ that?"

"Do what?" Chad wasn't even looking at him.

Renji gave him a horrified expression.

"You needed to talk. I'm a listener." Chad stopped at the doorway to a convenience store. "I'll buy you a slushie."

Renji could only nod at him.

Inside was clean and white and orderly. Except the counter. Two kids were standing in front of it, looking terrified. Behind it was a dark haired girl brandishing what looked like two weekly porno mangas. "I oughta call your parents, but it sounds like a better idea to kick your asses." The boys cringed, the girl sighed. "Just get out. If I catch you even peeking at this stuff again I'll teach you a whole new meaning of the term 'child abuse.'"

The boys bowed—_bowed!_—and made themselves scarce. Tatsuki gave Chad a smile. "A little early for you to be out, isn't it?"

"No gig tonight. Just the slushie."

As she took his money and gave him his change, she let her eyes travel the length and breadth of the shinigami, who returned her stare while sullenly slurping his slushie. He'd seen her before, he knew. He just could not put a name to the face. How could he be polite without letting on he completely forgot about someone who was apparently a friend? He took a step back, almost behind Chad, deciding it would be best to stay out of her line of fire. No such luck. "Collecting strays these days?" she asked.

"He's just hanging out," Chad said.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah."

She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Why? He's a working stiff isn't he? And kinda undead? Doesn't he have stuff to do back at that Sereitei place?"

Chad looked at Renji.

Renji looked at Chad.

Tatsuki began tapping her foot. "Nevermind. I'm pretty sure I don't care anyway. I'm going to be checking stuff out later on tonight, if you want to come, Sado."  
The giant looked at her, surprised. "You're still doing that?"

"What do you mean 'still'? You were right out there with me two weeks ago. Until Orihime moves in with Ishida, I won't get any kind of peace at home anyway, so I might as well be out doing something productive. So are you in or out?"

"I'm not in the mood for it tonight," Chad said. And then a pause. The lightbulb going off in his head was so bright it was blinding. "Why don't you take Abarai-kun?"

"_'Grape slushie burns the inside of your nose when you choke on it.' Abarai, what does that have to do with anything?"_

_Renji shrugs. "I figured it would be useful stuff to someone, someday."_

"_Ah," his captain says. "So this is how you began spending time with this 'Dragon Bitch?'"_

"_To make a long story short," Renji says._

"_Actually this report is so badly written and disjointed it feels like it took days to read."_

"_Oh."_

_Byakuya sets the report aside. "This is getting us nowhere. Why don't you just tell me in your own words?"_

"_What, you mean like say it aloud? Word for word? Isn't that how I started?"_

"_I have means to verify your testimony later." Byakuya shifts in his chair. "You can tell me more about how she makes you feel. . . tingly."

* * *

_**Next up:** She's a maniac. And he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. 


	4. Bad Company

One of the things that struck him about her was her certainty. She walked in long, steady strides, looking all around her with an intensity that reminded him of himself when he was fresh out of the academy, angry and—looking for a fight.

Unfortunately for him, she didn't find the kind she was looking for. Forty-five minutes of walking and nothing. He tugged at her sleeve. "It's getting late. I need to get going."

"Oh." They had barely spoken the whole time. He scanned her face; she seemed disappointed, but he wasn't convinced it was merely because she couldn't kick any hollow ass.

"I'll walk you back to your apartment," he offered without knowing why. She was a big girl and could clearly take care of herself. But he wasn't comfortable leaving her.

That is, until she said something that made him even more uncomfortable. "So you've been moping around pining for Rukia, haven't you?"

It wasn't even a question. He stopped walking without even realizing it. "What the hell do you know?"

"I know that _look_."

"What look?"

"Like someone just kicked your dog and pissed in your slushie. No wonder Chad's been babysitting you. How long has it been? A few weeks? A couple months?"

"Like I'm going to answer that. You don't know me from a can of paint and you're gonna make all these assumptions about me? Are you a bitch to everyone or just people who work hard to keep your narrow ass safe?" This all seemed painfully, ironically familiar to him.

"Don't bullshit me. Urahara told me how shinigami work. You all have those phones to track hollows with. You don't _need_ to patrol and you know it. Ichigo and Rukia only do it to humor your dumb ass."

He could only gape at her. She had him, dead to rights.

And he couldn't even remember her name. The deer-in-headlights feeling he always had when he argued with Rukia resurfaced, only this time she wasn't here to provoke it. So naturally, he struck back the only way he knew how: He punched the offending party.

"_You struck an unarmed human girl?" The horror is seeping through Byakuya's cold voice, and Renji understands it completely._

"_She dodged me, sir."_

"_But you tried to hit her."_

"_And she dodged me. And then she kicked me in the balls."_

"_Oh." Byakuya settles back into his chair. "What then?"_

"_After I stopped rolling around on the ground praying for death, she helped me up and I walked her back to her apartment. Where she jumped me."_

"_Jumped you?"_

"_It's a human metaphor for sex, sir." A cough. "We didn't actually. Just came really close to it."_

"_Ah. Please continue."_

It was an older building with six floors. Of course, considering his luck, the apartment occupied by Arisawa Tatsuki and Inoue Orihime was on the sixth. He was still aching a little, and she seemed very sorry.

Okay, just a _little_ sorry. "It was a reflex," she said as he collapsed onto the couch. "You can put some ice on it, if you want."

He understood this was all he was going to get in the way of an apology. He also understood the reasoning. She seemed tense, as if she knew she had overstepped her bounds somehow. Renji looked around. It was a girly apartment, but most of the things he saw were clearly Inoue's: A teddy bear, some scented candles, and a picture of Inoue's dead brother. There was nothing here to signify Arisawa lived here at all. He was about to comment on it when she came into the living room holding a towel full of ice. He waved his arm tiredly. "I don't need it."

She paused. "Is it because of the meat suit?"

"Meat suit?" He tilted his head. She might as well have been speaking Greek. . . "Oh, you mean the gigai. Nah, wearing a gigai doesn't stop you from getting hurt. But. . ." It was either jeans that looked like he had pissed them, or another, even less appealing alternative.

Tatsuki's mouth formed a little _O._ "You can go into the bathroom if you want. . ."

"No, it's okay." He heaved himself up and stumbled toward the door. "It's time to head back, anyway."

She was in front of him before he could move another step. "Look, I was trying to help."

"You've helped plenty." Like he needed the pity of a sadistic, all-knowing little harpy. He felt the blood rushing to his face. "Just leave me alone, will you?"

She set the ice down on the coffee table and stepped closer. "I can't do that."

He groaned. "And why not?"

She blinked, swallowed. "Because I know how you feel, you moron." She looked him in the eye and he knew she was telling what she considered to be the truth.

He swallowed. "Ichigo?"

"I couldn't let myself want something that Inoue wanted, you see." She was pacing. "I couldn't betray her like that. And so I let go and I moped, and when I looked at myself in the mirror—that's the same look I saw on your face."

He couldn't say a word. Until just a few hours ago she was barely a blip on his radar. He had just gotten to the point when he remembered her name, and here she was, worried for him. It made no sense whatsoever. But he was still touched. _Touched._ He could only do what he knew how to do. Whenever Rukia told him something deep, he would reach and touch her head. He did this, set his long white hand atop that dark head, and look at her, willing her to understand his appreciation, even if he was confused. She gazed up at him and nodded.

And that was enough. His legs moved, her legs moved. Her lips were on his before he could even tell himself he was doing something stupid. Very, very stupid. Because instead of pushing him away and calling him a pervert, she kissed him back. And it felt. . ._good._

Very good. Blood was rushing to both of his heads. Her lips were soft and warm and . . .

He was the one who pulled away, gasping.

She pursed her lips and waited.

"You started it," he said.

"I'm not denying that.," she said.

"You're—a little crazy, aren't you."

"No," she said, blushing just a little. Somewhere in that twisted head, she was completely aware of what she was doing and saying. "Just a little horny, I guess. It's been a while since I've been up close and personal with something in possession of a penis, and I guess my libido got the best of me. You have a nice body, all things considered."

"Well gee. I kinda feel like a piece of meat."

"Sorry.. I really didn't bring you here for that."

They stood and stared at each other. He inched toward the door and she made no move to stop him. Of all the. . .

She shook her head. "Go on, Abarai. I'm just as weirded out as you are." He could not tell if she was lying and at that point didn't care. He opened the door and made good his escape. Nevermind the fact that his lips were still—tingling.

"_Strange girl," Byakuya says after a long pause. "What made you stop?"_

"_Well, when I started to. . . you know. . . it still hurt and everything. How could I do something like that with someone who would kick me there like it was nothing?"_

"_That's logical thinking, for you. But you still want to, don't you."_

"_Um. . . yeah."_

"_Fascinating. Keep going," Byakuya says.

* * *

_**Next up:** An interlude. Arisawa's confession, Inoue's empathy. 


	5. The Baby Bird Reflex

He did not go back to Karakura with Rukia for three weeks. She did not ask why and he, for obvious reasons, did not volunteer any information. He simply could not wrap his mind around it. She kicked him. . . and then she kissed him. He knew he was not bright enough to ponder the bizarreness of human mating rituals. So he let himself cool off. He knew he would see her again. He also knew he only needed to handle the situation a little better. That was all.

But he was so fixated on dealing properly with the apparent loose cannon Arisawa was that he was blindsided in a bad way when he returned to the living world and was immediately confronted by a serious-faced Inoue.

She was parked on the couch in the Kurosaki-Sado domain, fresh, pretty, and agitated. Ichigo and Rukia made a hasty retreat and Chad had long since vanished. Renji opened his mouth to at least greet her politely, but she stopped him.

"She's embarrassed, Abarai-kun. I think she wants to apologize to you but can't bring herself to do it. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Renji coughed a little as he settled onto the couch—at a safe distance, of course. No telling if the shit Arisawa was afflicted with was contagious and Inoue was capable of collateral damage. "I'm not sure what you mean," he mumbled.

"She told me everything."

"Everything," he echoed.

"She's been a little out of sorts, I think. With me moving out and all that. She's not—herself."

"Ah."

Inoue sat staring forward, hands knotting and unknotting in her lap. "Really. You have to know her, she's never been agitated like this the whole time I've known her. And she was really upset after you left that night."

"But why?" he blurted.

Inoue blushed a little. "It's the baby bird reflex," she said. "She saw you hurting and wanted to help, but I don't think she was really in a good place for helping anybody. Aside from that, I think it's been a while since she had a decent date."

"Baby bird reflex?"

"Tatsuki-chan has always been the type to want to help people. She helped me when we were younger, you know. It's why she works for nothing at the dojo teaching kids. She always wants to help things that are helpless—not that I'm calling you helpless, Abarai-kun—she just saw you that way."

A number of realizations hit him in full horrific force, one after the other. Firstly, Orihime was not—could not be—the only person aware of his incident with Tatsuki. Secondly, if Orihime was worried, she would definitely have spoken with Rukia before approaching him so familiarly. Thirdly, _everyone knew._ Including Rukia.

_Oh, shit._

"I didn't take advantage of her or anything," Renji said, voice pointedly loud.

"_Is there a reason you felt defensive at that moment?" Byakuya asks. "As I understand it, you are the one who was molested."_

"_I guess I felt guilty, anyway," Renji mutters._

_Byakuya shakes his head. "Be a dog or a gentleman, Abarai. Pick one."_

"No one says you did," Inoue rushed. "I was just saying. . . if you don't mind. . . will you talk to her and tell her it's okay? I mean, no one will make you if you don't want to but it would work out so much better if you could tell her something."

His head was suddenly throbbing. He'd obviously come back too soon and now he was stuck. "And tell her what? I'm sorry you're a psycho but you kiss real good?"

Inoue's face went from solemn to sour in two seconds flat. "No, Abarai-kun. You go and you tell her you appreciate that she cares so much and you want to be _good friends_ for now on."

"But that would be a lie. I don't want to be _breathing_ within a fifteen mile radius of that woman."

"_Well, at least you were honest about your feelings," Byakuya sniffs._

"And hey—what happened to you wanting to help?" Renji asked.

Inoue blinked at him. Apparently, this _was_ her idea of helping. And then she did it. That _look._ The doe eyes and the slightly parted, moist, wet lips, complete with flushed cheeks. "Please?"

"_At which point you folded like a house of cards," Byakuya snorts._

"_Wouldn't _you _have?" Renji demands and the Kuchiki lord is silent._

This was how, a week later, he came to Karakura alone, armed with directions scrawled on a piece of notebook paper. The dojo was easier to find than he thought it would be. He leaned in the doorway and watched the lesson with trepidation. Her students were pretty young; the smallest looked barely six and Renji noted with grudging interest how gentle Arisawa was as she corrected his stance. She prowled the rows like a lioness, bellowing out directions and stopping here and there to observe.

By the time the lesson was over Renji was convinced he'd walked into the wrong place. This couldn't possibly be the same girl—

But then she strode up to him as the children shuffled out, her face impassive but her eyes bright. "Abarai—what are you doing here?"

He had a speech prepared. "Look, Arisawa, I talked with Inoue and she says you weren't yourself the last time I saw you. So why don't we just forget it happened and move on?" It would have been perfect—if he'd actually used it. Instead, he scratched his head, sniffing. "I, uh, thought it might be fun to spar."

She only looked at him with an incredulous expression for a moment. "Well," she said, setting her hands to her hips. "I think you're onto something. Why don't you go change clothes while I pull up the extra mats? There's a uniform your size in the closet back there."

As he stripped, he wondered how exactly he'd backed himself out of a corner and into quicksand.

He also wondered why his lips were tingling again.

"_I was about to say I sense a conspiracy," Byakuya says. "But it appears you like to cause your own discomfort."_

_Renji can only nod in agreement.

* * *

_**Next up:** Conspiracy theory? Not too far from the truth. . . maybe. 


	6. The Deed

It wasn't that Rukia never loved him. It was that she never _loved_ him. That was the thought that stung, the thought that kept his eye on her as often as could manage, even when she was with the one she chose. Standing in corners or on the street, his body would bend so his ear was to her mouth; her small hand would grasp lightly at his wrist and her soft chuckle would bubble forth at some apparently funny thing he'd said.

At first, Renji would have to suppress the impulse to stalk over and bash _both_ their heads in. For a long time, only the knowledge that his captain would rain bloody murder or worse upon him for giving in to his urges was the only thing that kept him in check.

Later, witnessing them together was only an annoying and depressing sight.

Not much later than that, it was the furthest thing from his mind: Arisawa was now blocking his view. He came to the living world with Rukia as ordered, but as soon as she was delivered into the arms of that kid, Abarai found more constructive things to do than to stand around and burn the image of the couple into his eyes. Arisawa was always either wrapping up or already finished with her last class. They would nod at each other when her crossed the threshold and within moments they'd be beating the crap out of each other.

He found it therapeutic—in a strange, twisted way. They seldom talked, aside from the perfunctory mudslinging of insults to get each other worked up. They would circle like wrestlers, slow and deliberate, eyeball to eyeball, all focus and intensity invested in tripping each other up. Some days, she would lunge at him and he would slip around her, laughing deep, catching her wrist and slinging her to the ground. Other days he would launch at her and she would hit him head-on, her shoulder connecting with his chest and knocking the wind out of him. It only went downhill from there, as far as any kind of ancient, battle traditional honor was concerned. Kicking him in the balls had become pretty much a last-ditch habit for her; smacking her around has become his most treasured activity.

They usually emerged from the dojo about an hour later, both covered in bruises, empty headed, exhausted and insanely happy. At the end of every night she would buy him a slushie and he would cheerfully slurp it all the way back to Sereitei. He briefly considered killing her so she could go to Soul Society and he'd have the brutal pleasure of fighting her all-out for an eternity. Had she been a shinigami they would both have been unstoppable by now.

"_Except by each other, of course," Byakuya said, eying a violent purple mark on Renji's collarbone. "So at what point did you realize there was attraction?" _

"_I didn't. Rukia . . . " he trailed off, reddening._

"_Ah."_

It was sometime after Ichigo's warning that Rukia broached the subject. Her tone was cautious and her words were discomfiting, considering the situation. "You seem a lot happier lately."

Renji grunted; he was inhaling a ramen bowl he'd pilfered from Ichigo's cupboard. He always returned from the dojo, ravenous, to wait for Rukia. Tonight's slushie was black cherry and he sucked it down between forkfuls of food.

She settled into a chair across from where he sat at the kitchen table. Her hands knotted in front of her. "Do you have a good time with her?"

"Wuf foo?" He was blindsided by the question and his mouth was full.

"_I suppose it would be pointless to tell you your manners are atrocious," Byakuya sighs. _

Renji paused and looked at Rukia. She seemed anxious, maybe a little guilty. If she felt bad, he didn't really want to know. That would be a conversation that would last hours. He swallowed, gulped a little air, and sighed. "It's been fun, yeah."

"Are the two of you—close?"

"Close?"

"Do you like her?"

"She fights good."

"Is that all?" Her head was tilted, the sure sign of growing exasperation. There was something she wanted to know and he was not being forthcoming enough with an answer. "I mean, it's been almost two months. You don't really talk to anyone else and whenever you're here, you're with her. Is there something going on?"

Renji blinked at her. "Uh, she kicked me."

"I know."

"In the _balls_."

"I know that too. Isn't that usually a reason _not_ to put yourself into a situation where she'd have the opportunity to do it again?"

"_Female logic isn't logic at all," Byakuya opines. "A few randomly-placed bruises and their minds leap to foreplay gone wrong."_

"_I don't think that was what she was getting at, sir," Renji says defeatedly._

"_No, it was the conclusion she wanted to lead _you_ to," his captain sniffs._

"I like sparring with her," Renji said carefully. "She's tough."

"What do you talk about?" Rukia demanded. By this point Ichigo had just emerged from the bathroom. After listening for a moment or two he went right back into it. "Does she say anything interesting?"

Renji paused to consider the question. Sure they talked, insults thrown back and forth with impunity, but those served the purpose of bolstering each other to fight. But she had not complimented his body since that night, and for some reason that was the only other thing she could possibly say he'd find even _remotely_ interesting. Not that he was going to divulge such an opinion. It occurred to him—briefly—that he would not even be thinking this if she wasn't digging for it. He looked at Rukia. "We're not like that. She's not really a girl, you know."

"That's how you see her?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?"

"Uh huh."

She settled back in her chair, a little smile playing at her lips. "Okay then." She seemed a little glad, he noted. At which point Renji was _totally_ relieved he hadn't confessed to having nailed Arisawa the night before.

_Byakuya's teacup crashes to the floor. He stares down at it briefly in horror before shifting his gaze to his startled vice-captain, speechless._

"_What?" Renji says._

* * *

**A/N:** The only conspiracy going on here is in Renji's pants. Okay, I've confessed. But Inoue is still sweet and delusional and you can draw your conclusions from there. And yes, the Rukia is a tad jealous. Hell, wouldn't you be? 

**Next up:** The conspiracy in Renji's pants likes dragons.


	7. It Happened One Night

"_Nailed her? As in human lingo for. . . S-E-X?"_

"_You don't need to spell it out, Taichou. Yes, there was intercourse."_

"_A day before you informed my sister that you did not view your. . . ahem. . .partner. . . as female?"_

"_I told Rukia I didn't consider Arisawa a girl. Of course she's female, Yumichika is the only one who would have done her otherwise." The redhead pauses. "And maybe Kira."_

_Captain Kuchiki is not impressed by Renji's semantic loophole. "Elaborate," he says._

That night, Renji asked Arisawa if she wanted to go out in lieu of sparring. It wasn't that he was bored with the almost nightly smackdown, far from it. But the nagging thought in the back of his mind was that despite the twisted road in getting to her goal, she had done it. He was no longer pining for Rukia. He owed her. So why not give her something in return? He'd never have to thank her in so many words, and on top of that he'd get to see her in action—an added bonus for him.

She tried and failed not to explode in excitement at the offer. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. He popped a piece of soul candy. Her eyes did not even widen at the sight of him in his hakama, but her smile widened. "Do I look good?" he wanted to ask, but didn't.

"So what now?" she asked, looking at the gigai he'd left behind.

The gigai crossed his arms. "I presume, my dear lady, we wait."

"She wasn't asking you, shithead," Renji growled before punching it. It collapsed onto the floor with a thud.

"Did you just break your nose?" Tatsuki asked.

"Nah, just tapped it." He pulled out his phone and looked at it. "Karakura is a pretty busy town. One'll turn up in no time. You don't mind riding on my back do you?"

"Why would I do that?"

"It might be too far from here for us to run."

"You fly?"

"No, but I can move faster than you like this."

"Oh." Something like disappointment was creeping into her voice. He started to ask her what her deal was when the phone began to beep.

The hollow was across town. It took hardly no time to get there, but he was acutely aware of Arisawa's weight on his back the whole way. She was light and he knew that already. But the way she gripped his shoulders and his waist—unintentionally of course, there was _no way_ she was afraid of heights—was she?

This was not the right time to ask. He was on the ground, practically dumping her in the grass, already calling Zabimaru into action. The soul the hollow had intended to make its meal was scampering off. Renji was about to launch himself at the hollow—a weird, four-legged mix between bear and raccoon with a long, cat-like tail—when Arisawa got in his way. He had a split second to comprehend and appreciate her zeal when she landed a hit with her foot and the hollow reacted, swiping at her with a huge claw and sending her flying against a tree. She hit it hard and slid to the ground.

At which point Renji literally saw red.

"_What exactly did you expect? This is a human girl with no particular ability except vision. You put her in terrible danger to satisfy your pride," Byakuya interrupts._

"_But she had been patrolling all this time—"_

"_With Sado. I'm sure he never allowed her to charge a live hollow, and Rukia certainly never did." Byakuya shifts in his chair. "You were letting her win most of the time when you sparred. You knew she was weaker than you, but she apparently did not."_

"_No, I think she knew," Renji murmurs. "I don't think she knew _I _knew."_

They had been playing a massive game of chicken. He wanted to see her in action—real action. Even if it meant seeing her harmed. And she, with no intention of betraying any weakness to him, followed right along. He had no idea who was the bigger idiot. He cut the hollow neatly in two and moved with speed he didn't know he had to her side. She was awake, wind knocked out of her. He gazed down at her, speechless. "Did I get it?" she rasped. Her eyes were hazy and the side of her face was a bloody mess of scratches.

"Yeah, you did."

The smile she gave him shredded his heart. He fumbled for the amulet all good shinigami carried when they made trips to the living word, activated it with his weak kidou and proceeded to heal her. "Arisawa," he said, swallowing, "this was a bad idea."

"Maybe," she said. "But I'm glad you had it. I feel pretty good, actually."

"Kurosaki's gonna kill me if he finds out."

She grimaced. "I doubt it, but I won't tell if you don't."

"Don't be such a dumbass. Just because your friends are all pairing off it doesn't mean they stopped giving a shit about you." That came out all wrong, but it was exactly what he meant. The light on his amulet flickered and died. "Can you stand?"

"I'm fine, Abarai." She rose slowly, carefully, then stretched like a cat. "That was odd. Thanks."

"I'm not taking you out again."

"That's fine." She walked ahead of him, rolling her shoulders.

"And I don't want you going out, even if Chad's with you."

She shook her head. "I do what I want." As he caught up to her, she turned. "But you don't trust me not to do anything stupid, do you."

He slung an arm around her shoulder. She winced. "Sorry," he said. "I just hate the idea of not having you to smack around."

"Ha," she said, looking him in the face. His eyes focused on her lips. They were turned upward in half a smirk. So she really did have a good time. That alone was worth the price of admission. The next words out of his mouth surprised them both.

"I kinda want to. . . you know. With you."

She stared at him, blinking once, slowly. "What brought _that_ on?"

"I dunno." And he really didn't know. He'd never had to so much as ask before. Girls were lined up to get a chance with him, and his eleventh division habits died hard. He couldn't have what he wanted, but he could certainly sample what was offered. But Arisawa was not one of those girls. He was aware of the warmth of her back, the scent of her hair. The idea of her life being ended by a hollow—never seeing her again, never being thrown by her again—hit him hard in the stomach. He wanted her to know it. And he was never good with words. "You said I have a nice body."

"You never said _I_ have a nice body."

"Why would I tell you something everyone already knows?"

"Oh jeez. You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you?" Despite it all, her tone was playful.

"Never pretended to," he grinned back, marveling at the return of that tingly feeling.

It was a tingly feeling that only spread once they got back to her apartment.

The living room was now sparse, almost empty of everything save the most basic of furniture. It made it so much easier to slam her against the wall and kiss her until they were both gasping. He didn't ask, didn't need to be told. If Inoue were still living there, this would never have happened. He understood and accepted it all at once, while trailing his way with his tongue down her neck and lower. Arisawa was alone. But it was not the kind of alone he usually sensed in the women he was with. They all needed something. Even Rukia had, pulling at him like a blanket. And he was more than willing at the time to be that for her, to be _anything_ for her. How else could he keep up the illusion of being anything _to_ her?

But Arisawa didn't need him. Not like _that_. She was content with her hands in his hair and her legs around his waist—they fit together so well it was unnerving—and her response to his heavy breath on her skin was a raspy moan of her own. What was it about her that she could take a simple thing like this and keep it simple? That was another thing he understood. She knew loss in the same way that he did. She could not have what it was she wanted, so she merely changed the desired thing. But now that Inoue no longer needed protecting, she was grasping at straws too, trying to connect all the things in her life so they made some semblance of sense and still _included_ her. And sensed immediately he had the same dilemma. Whether it was by chance or design that they were thrown together at this time, in this place, they could both shake off their hurt and simply breathe. They didn't need to be anything and they didn't need to make sense. They could just be their messy selves. Together.

Which is why, he supposed, that tingly feeling stayed even after they collapsed sweaty and exhausted on the living room floor—and was still with him when he woke with her head on his chest the next morning.

"_That was quick."_

"_Hey! We went for at least two hours, and then another hour after that."_

"_Not the copulation, Abarai." Byakuya shakes his head. "You do not merely lust after this woman. You're in love with her."_

_Renji grimaces. "I was afraid of that."_

"_You have no idea how she feels about you, do you."_

_The red head is in his hands again. "Not a clue."

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, folks. I'm not too good with the mushy stuff. 

**Next up:** If you ask Ikkaku, the way to a girl's heart is through her sternum.


	8. Lust and the Modern Shinigami

He decided it would be a good idea to give her some space.

"_Don't you mean give _yourself_ some space? As scatterbrained as you may be, I find it hard to believe that by then you had not considered the consequences of your actions," Byakuya sniffs._

"_Okay, so I decided to give us _both_ some space."_

_A pause. "And?"_

"_It didn't work out so well."_

The flaming face and shifty eyes were enough to clue in the entire eleventh division. They'd seen it all before and their memory was considerably longer than people thought. Later on, Renji wondered what the hell he was thinking when he made his way into their division offices to look for a sparring partner.

"Oh my god," Yumichika breathed, launching himself from his desk and coming almost nose-to-nose with a horrified Renji. "Ikkaku, the boy has gotten laid again."

Madarame, who shared the office, was sitting at his desk with his legs up. He had been asleep when Renji came in and waved his arm lazily, not even opening his eyes. "So that makes twice in a century."

"With a female he _likes,_" added Yumichika.

Ikkaku opened one eye. "Rukia? Nah, couldn't be. He'd be in pieces by now." He opened the other eye and stared. "Well?"

Renji frowned. "No one you know." It flashed in his mind like lightening. Soft ivory skin, a long, pointed tongue in places never exposed to daylight—he had to shake himself.

"I know a lot of chicks." Ikkaku sat up.

"You don't know this one." Renji said quickly.

"Why? Is she from the second and all _ninja_ and shit?"

Actually, Arisawa would fit in perfectly in the second. Although there would possibly be the danger of Captain Soi Fong trying to convert her. . .Renji shuddered. That would be a complete tragedy. Unless he got to watch, of course. . .

_Byakuya coughs. Renji looks at him questioningly. "Soi Fong-taichou is a professional. She would never take advantage of her subordinates," the Kuchiki lord says coldly. Renji doubts it, but decides it's not in his best interest to debate the point._

"It's that girl, that human girl." Yumichika was in his ear. "That little macho number who was in Kurosaki's class."

Renji jumped. "What the hell?"

"Score!" Ikkaku pounced on him. "Not bad for a chick that's still alive. So how was it? Did she give you a good workout?"

"I don't—" Renji began, but was cut off.

"Look at him blushing!" Yumichika cupped his chin. "Aww, he's in _love_."

"Pansy." Ikkaku whacked Renji's shoulder with his wooden sword. "You've always been weak for women. Probably explains how you've hung out under Kuchiki for so long, though. Bastard's close enough to one."

_There is a pause here. Kuchiki is impassive but is clearly thinking. Renji suspects he is no longer listening. "Taichou?"_

"_She really is an exemplary captain," Byakuya says. "So controlled and powerful."_

"_Soi Fong-taichou?"_

"_Who else?" Byakuya blinks. "Oh. Go on." _

Renji rolled his eyes. "I knew it was a shitty idea to come here."

"You came 'cause you wanted to share." Odd. He hadn't even noticed Yachiru perched atop one of the unused and ignored filing cabinets, swinging her legs and grinning. "C'mon, firehead. Tell us about it."

Yumichika shook his head. "Come along, fukutaichou," he said, pulling her off the cabinet and heading towards the door. "This isn't for little girls. Ikkaku—take care of him."

The remaining two waited for Yachiru's shrieks of protest to fade away before Ikkaku motioned for Renji to sit. "So," the bald man said. "You've kinda fucked up, haven't you."

"I didn't take advantage of her or anything. She was completely willing."

"Not that, you dumbass. She's _alive_."

"So is Kurosaki, and no one's sayin' anything about that."

"Oh jeez. Kurosaki's different and you know it. Don't you know there are shinigami that have had to _resign_ over this type of crap?"

"I don't know of any. Besides, I didn't say I wanted to get married or some shit like that. Just because we had a good time—"

"A better time than you've had in fifty years, Abarai. I know you. You can play all you want but you're a one chick kind of guy and once you get stuck on one you're there like super glue. So I'm gonna do you a favor and tell you what you should do."

"Go back there, tell her it was fun and all but it can't happen again and never go back to Karakura?"

"Jeez you're dramatic. Dude, just go back and kill her."

Renji's jaw dropped. Ikkaku was grinning, but he was clearly _dead_ serious.

"_Is that what they teach you in the Eleventh? Barbarians," Byakuya growls._

"Push her in front of a bus or something. It doesn't take much," Ikkaku continued. "You do the soul burial, she'll be here and you can do her anytime you want."

"That's kinda illegal, isn't it?"

Ikkaku blinked. "Is it?"

"It is. So what else can you tell me, O shiny-headed love guru?"

Ikkaku shrugged. "What else is there? You gotta cut her off."

The force of his words hit Renji like—he could not describe it. It reminded him of being sliced to shreds by the bankai of his captain. He just got her. In the back of his mind was the growing desire to keep her. Even if he didn't know if she wanted to be kept. But that was apparently a moot point.

"_I don't understand why you didn't tell me that from the beginning, Kuchiki-taichou," Renji says. _

"_You give me plenty of evidence to believe you might be mentally deficient, but you've also proven yourself to be a quick learner. I knew you would work it out sooner or later. In the meantime, it was also a nice change from all the moping." Byakuya sips his tea calmly._

"_And you wanted me to tell you the details because. . ."_

"_It amused me."_

"_Ah." _

"_But despite what you were told, it does not seem that you ended it." Byakuya raises an eyebrow. "Did you." He is eying an apparent bitemark on Renji's neck. _

_Renji rubs his nose. "Easier said than done, sir," he says, looking away. _

* * *

**Next up:** "The dance we do has no grace. It's unromantic and it's ugly. More along the lines of an ultimate fighting match. That's probably why we enjoy it so much." 


	9. Such Sweet Sorrow

**A/N**: Warning. . . angst ahead.

* * *

All in all, he had plenty of reasons to let her go. To walk away. Millions. Like stars. 

And like stars, they became distant and meaningless in the crook of her neck, the tickle of her fingers on his chest.

They were both of them tactile souls. Her skin was smooth and ivory, her hair soft and thick. Her eyes could suck him in like nothing else ever would. She always frowned at him when he leaned forward to touch her shoulder, graze her jaw with his thumb. She never said what was on her mind. If her face was more expressive like Inoue's, or more impassive like Rukia's, he could have been satisfied with that. But the itching need and fear beneath the surface—things he could only be reflecting himself—were becoming too blinding. Not just for him. For her, too.

They were no longer sneaking around. Everyone knew. That's why it was so easy for them to slip into the crowded hall rented by Ishida's father to commemorate the upcoming nuptials of his son, not hand in hand but _together._ And no one batted an eye. No one, save the future groom. After the perfunctory receiving of gifts and congratulations, he whispered into Inoue's ear and rose. The cold blue eyes met with Renji's, and the shinigami knew immediately that this was it. After all this time, a direct confrontation. Ishida made his way out, and Renji followed.

"What are you doing?" Ishida asked the moment they were in the hallway.

"Congratulating you. Beautiful wife you're getting."

Ishida shook his head. "Dumbass."

Renji laughed. "I've heard that one before."

"From Arisawa-san, I'll bet. And she's right."

"Now if only she weren't just as dumb."

"Have you talked to Kurosaki?"

"He tried to talk me out of it before we really started going at it, yeah."

"Let me guess. It went in one ear and out the other?" Ishida pushed his glasses up with a long white finger. One of the byproducts of fighting side by side with Ishida was that he, of all people, tended to be more perceptive. Of Renji's flaws, mostly. Karma, maybe, for skewering the kid when they first met (even though the cocky little bastard deserved it). "Don't you think you've let this go on long enough? Knowing what you both are?"

Renji opened his mouth to reply, but Ishida knew exactly where he was going. "It's different with Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san and you know it. Even if he's human, Kurosaki is a shinigami. They can go on for years like this and pick right up like nothing happened after he dies. Are you willing to wait around for Arisawa-san to reach your level? Do you expect her to be faithful to you and have nothing but all those years you'll spend apart to look forward to?" The blue eyes narrowed. "Or," the Quincy asked, "Will you be like Kurosaki-sensei and become a human for the woman you love?"

Renji suddenly wanted to punch the wall. Okay. He _did_ punch the wall. _"Typical," Kuchiki-taichou sniffed._ Thankfully it was brick and the gigai gave way before it did. Ishida stood still in his place, not even flinching at the blow that landed just inches from his head.

Renji sucked in air, clutched at the mangled hand. It was bleeding. "Those gigai are getting damn realistic," Ishida commented. "Urahara-san is outdoing himself."

"Yeah he is," Renji gritted through clenched teeth.

Ishida was already walking away. "You can't stay here. She cannot go, not yet. Don't force her to be the one who ends it. Be a damn man," he threw over his back. Renji listened to his heavy footfalls slow an stop. There was a silence. Renji looked up from his hands.

Arisawa stood in the doorway. Her eyes were narrow. "Stop interfering," she said to Ishida. Her gaze shifted to Renji and he braced himself for the usual verbal smackdown. But it did not come. Instead she strode forward, cool and certain. She took his uninjured hand. "Let's go somewhere," she said.

He let her lead him out into the cool autumn night.

He hadn't noticed before, but he did now. Her hair was growing, long enough now to be swept up into a small knot, exposing the back of her fine neck. He edged close, nuzzled. She stood very still. Her perfume was exquisite, even though he wasn't sure if she was wearing any. She leaned back; his hands hooked together at her midsection. "Don't say it," she murmured. She could only will him to know. He could not help but understand.

She had no idea. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to, speak the words aloud. Not any more than she could. That night they sparred as they never had before. Renji came away with his other hand just as sore where he tried to hit her, overreached, and slammed into another wall. Tatsuki came away with a purpling bruise on her shoulder where she deflected a strike at her head. Then they went back to her apartment, stripped, and stared at each other's wounds in silence. She took the hand he had wrecked at the hall. Stared, blinked. Could not cry. Would not. He touched her shoulder gently, negotiating with the bruise. Found a safe spot to grasp and pulled her to him. Together they breathed in silence. Together they fell asleep.

In his dreams he was alone and not alone. Rukia and the others lay facing the sky, sleep like a blanket upon them while he acted as the fire that kept them warm. But he was restless, he was lonely. He could not help but grasp at the fireflies that lit the night in vague and certain glows. And the one he caught, when he opened his hands, was Tatsuki's beating heart. He would blink at it, horrified and amazed, then look to make sure the others were not awake.

And then he would devour it.

"_That is enough, Abarai-kun."_

"_Taichou?"_

"_I cannot counsel you further."_

"_You haven't counseled me at all," Renji murmurs._

_If Byakuya notices the accusing tone in his subordinate's voice, he does not acknowledge it. "I will not be the one to make your decision for you."_

"_Ah." Renji closes his eyes. "I figured as much." He can accept this. He's a man, after all._

"_Don't drag this out," Kuchiki warns. "Make it merciful." But of course, sphinx that he is, he does not indicate who the mercy is supposed to be for. Yet another choice Renji would be expected to make for himself. But he already knows his choice. He only has to accept it._

* * *

**A/N (again): **It had to go there eventually. Sorry if it's too much of a downer. 

**Next up:** He'll carry the gift she gave him until the day _she_ dies.


	10. Forget Me Not

The day Renji returned the gigai to Urahara's, he took Arisawa with him. He hadn't intended to. He woke up with her hand clenched in his own and could not, for the un-life of him, let go. Even when she smacked him with her free hand and ordered him to release her. When he threatened to throw her over his shoulder and carry her along, she grudgingly agreed to accompany him. They must have made an impressive sight, he stalking in the autumn dusk, practically dragging an irritable woman-child behind him. She would not speak to him, would not look at him. _Yeah, yeah_, he thought to himself nostalgically. _I love you too. _

The preternaturally astute Urahara was waiting on the front stoop. "Ah, freeloader-kun! And you've brought a little dragon with you! I knew today would be a good day," he beamed at Arisawa, who looked like she might launch herself at him and claw his eyes out. Urahara cheerfully feigned indifference. "Abarai-kun, if you're going to return that today you need to check it with Tessai. Looks a little scuffed up."

Renji blinked.

"Well you _are_ returning it, are you not?"

Renji raised the hand with which he clenched Tatsuki's, examining her fingers. He could untangle himself, could not, she would only run away if released—then she stomped on his foot, which made letting go much easier. She stepped deftly away, scowling. "I'll stay, you ass," she snarled. "Just go." He stared at her for just a moment, disbelieving. Urahara's already wide grin expanded as he stepped behind her. He winked. Renji looked back at least a dozen times as he trudged into the store. At the last check, Arisawa was standing very still with Urahara's hand on her shoulder. Before Renji's blood could start to boil at the idea of the ex-shinigami feeling up what was soon to be his ex-girlfriend, he was nose-to-nose with a mustache and glasses.

"Abarai-kun," Tessai intoned, "you have not been very charitable to this gigai." The larger man gripped his shoulder and pulled him into the back.

"Blame the soul candy," Renji gritted out. "Every time it opened its mouth I wanted to kick its ass."

"Oh? That brand is the most well-mannered there is."

"Exactly." Renji had already begun to pull himself free of the false body; his heart was beginning to twist. This was it. He would walk out there in his true form, tell Arisawa goodbye, and that would be it. Forever.

"Abarai-kun." Tessai frowned at him. "We know about the sparring."

"Who _doesn't?_" Renji huffed.

"I may be out of line to comment, but was bringing your lady friend here the best idea?"

Renji looked at him. Tessai rocked back on his heels. "Oh, I see." A pause. "Go ahead and get that off. I'll be back to inspect it in a moment." And just like that, Renji was alone again with his thoughts. And the comments of others. "Be a man," the Quincy had said. "Make it merciful," his captain had said. He was a man and he was capable of mercy. Why did the two things, when put together, have to be such a monumental pain in the ass? He'd already been anything _but _merciful in dragging her here. A protracted goodbye could not possibly be good for her.

But damn it, he _needed_ it. He could make it up to her, couldn't he, for indulging himself like this? This was a store, in any case. He didn't have a lot of human money, but maybe he could work out something with Urahara—he sighed, finally free of the gigai, and put it aside. _This is it,_ he thought to himself again. _Make it quick. _He knew at he could not just leave her empty handed and vacant. Perhaps a little present was just the needed thing.

He came into the storefront, absently scratching the back of his neck and pulling at his collar. "Urahara-san," he began.

"Ah, Abarai-kun!" The shopkeeper waved his fan dramatically. "Just in time. Arisawa-chan wanted to give you something." He ignored the horrified expression on the girl's face. "Now, now, I know it's a private thing, these little lover's gifts, but she asked me what she could give you that you'd be able to take with you. Fortunately, I have just the thing. And you'll be able to carry it with you _always_."

Renji cringed.

Urahara was a man of many talents. Not that Renji wasn't aware of that, but it shocked him mildly to discover that tattooing was one of his many talents. And he didn't even use a gun. Instead he brandished what looked like an expensive fountain pen. "Your wrist, Abarai-kun?" presented with the required body part he pulled at it, yanking Renji forward until his ears were at his lips. "I understand you intended to purchase a keepsake for the lady as well. I'm killing two birds with one stone here—and at a reasonable price, too!" Renji gazed into those sparkly eyes. And cringed again. They were almost sexy in their excitement. Renji barely had the time to register the shudder that shot through him with that last thought when Urahara released his wrist. "All done!"

Tatsuki stepped forward, indignant. "You can't possibly be finished." She grabbed the wrist in question and Renji flinched at pain that didn't come. Tatsuki paused. "That didn't hurt?"

Renji blinked at her. "Uh. . . no."

Her eyes narrowed and she began to squeeze. Nothing. She blinked, shaking her head. "But I paid for—"

"Arisawa." Renji reached for her with his free hand. "Look at me."

She sniffed, rubbed her nose with her sleeve. "No," she protested in a muffled voice.

"Look," he said, raising the tattooed wrist. In plain hiragana was her name, family and given.

She blinked. "That isn't—that isn't what I asked for." Her eyes were wet.

Renji took a breath, touched her chin. "But I like it," he said. His hand slid to her cheek, the other hand following suit and caressing the other. "I like it a lot."

She bit her lip, frowning. "Idiot."

"Idiot-lover," he smiled at her before kissing her. And it was by far the best kiss ever.

That is, until she went limp and collapsed ungracefully onto the floor. Gazing down in horror at the girl, he saw himself, gasping and sweating, and small slender hands striking at his neck. But no. Himself, walking along with a slushie, turning to smile and say, "Thanks, Arisawa." Renji damn near fainted himself. Is this how she saw him?

"You're supposed to catch a fainting damsel, Abarai," Urahara chuckled, snapping him out of his reverie.

Renji looked back at Arisawa sprawled on the floor, then at the horrifically amused Urahara. "What the hell did you do?"

"I put her mark on you. Complete with all her memories of your time together. I know it's a weight you don't want her to carry, is that correct?"

"You talked her into the tattoo."

"Not really. Perhaps she loves you so much because she knows next to nothing about you. She was wondering what would be appropriate, and I mentioned you had an ungodly amount of body art. She agreed with me that you really like tattoos, she mentioned that if she could, she'd get you another one. So I stepped in."

"So you can give tattoos that hold people's memories?"

"No. I can transfer memories by attaching them to an object touched by the donor and then the recipient. The ink was the medium this time, but really, I could have used anything. I won't bother explaining the method I used to select the precise memories from Arisawa-san's mind; it would only confuse you." Urahara grinned. "I _am_ a genius, you know."

Renji knelt. "Oi, Arisawa. Tatsuki-chan. . ."

"Best not wake her. She'll wonder why the hell you're manhandling her in a place she's never been before. You should get her home. Shunpo would probably be helpful here," Urahara said, suddenly quiet in his speech.

"Urahara-san—" Renji started, gathering her up.

"You can give them back to her when she gets to Soul Society—if you choose. Go. I'll make sure the right people know about it and don't wreck things." He turned away.

Renji took a breath, rubbed his chin against Arisawa's exposed neck. Then he moved out into the night.

Even in flash step, it was an endless trip. Down the main street, up the millions of stairs, into the bedroom he woke up in just this morning. Arisawa did not stir. He laid her gently on the futon the stood up straight, taking in the slender legs and soft, dark hair. Then bent back down, breathing in her breath. Pressing his lips to her forehead. There was no point in saying anything. She would not hear him, and if she did, she wouldn't understand. But he did it anyway. "I'll be waiting, Arisawa."

As he opened the gate and crossed over, he gazed at his wrist. If nothing else, he knew how to pine over women.

Hopefully, this would be the last time.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaah. That was a hard one. All my thanks to all of you for travelling the long road with me.

**P.S**. And hey, if anyone is interested, there's a poll in the profile. Do me a favor and vote, won't you:)


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